


Broken Mind

by dontbecooler, Misha_Migos



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Depression, Gen, I mean a whole heap of angst, anorexia? kind of i guess, not wincest, triggering maybe?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 08:51:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontbecooler/pseuds/dontbecooler, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misha_Migos/pseuds/Misha_Migos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a few months after John Winchester had died.<br/>Dean had started to drift away from his brother; the only thing connecting them was the hunts they went on.<br/>He was always out of the motel room or drinking, never talking to Sam unless talking about research.<br/>He had noticeably stopped his sarcastic remarks and rarely ate or slept anymore.<br/>That night, they went hunting for a demon, just a small hunt. Dean nearly got him and Sam killed because he had hesitated.<br/>His reason for hesitation? The sudden wave of nausea and dizziness that washed over him.<br/>Sam, with quick thinking, saved the day and they managed to exorcise the demon and send it back to hell.<br/>While limping back to the Impala in silence, Sam's head reeled. What was happening to his brother? Why the hesitation? This wasn't his brother, not since their dad had died. He knew something was wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Mind

**Author's Note:**

> this is what happens when you find a brilliant prompt and spend all night RPing :D  
> So after one disconnect and a little bit of fangirling, here it is!  
> Misha_Migos wrote Dean and I wrote Sammy :)  
> Watch out though lovelies, some of this might be tad triggering. Stay safe okay?

It was a few months after John Winchester had died.  
Dean had started to drift away from his brother; the only thing connecting them was the hunts they went on.  
He was always out of the motel room or drinking, never talking to Sam unless talking about research.  
He had noticeably stopped his sarcastic remarks and rarely ate or slept anymore.  
That night, they went hunting for a demon, just a small hunt. Dean nearly got him and Sam killed because he had hesitated.  
His reason for hesitation? The sudden wave of nausea and dizziness that washed over him.  
Sam, with quick thinking, saved the day and they managed to exorcise the demon and send it back to hell.  
While limping back to the Impala in silence, Sam's head reeled. What was happening to his brother? Why the hesitation? This wasn't his brother, not since their dad had died. He knew something was wrong.  
Meanwhile, Dean looked at his brother for a moment, and could tell that Sam was thinking deeply.  
"What's going on, Sammy?" he asked.

"You are not healthy Dean," Sam said, looking at his brother with sad eyes. He swallowed, knowing words were not a strong point for the pair.  
"Not since dad died." He wanted to yell when he saw Dean roll his eyes. "Dean, I'm serious. You almost got us killed back there!"

"Like you haven't stuffed up before Sam!" Dean argued. "Dad has nothing to do with us, he's dead, it's over, there's nothing we can do." Dean bit out.  
It even hurt for him just to say that. He wished he could go back to eating normally, to sleeping correctly but he couldn't, not with this huge amount of despair taking a ride on his shoulder, weighing him down into the ground.

Sam frowned. He had always been very observant.  
"You wanna know what I think." He asked, not letting his brother counter him before he spoke. "You are ill, but not physically. Mentally Dean. And don't you dare say anything against it. I studied at Uni; I hung out with training psychologists. They taught me the signs of depression once." He paused, taking a breath. "I can help you Dean, I'm your brother, I'll help you."

"God damn it Sam, just shut up will you? Stop making this whole thing a bigger deal than it is!" Dean knew that he was feeling protective now. He couldn't grow weak, in his physical or mental state. He couldn't understand and accept the fact that what he was going through - in fact, was depression because he needed to keep a clear level head when hunting; he needed to be there for Sam. He couldn't let anything get in the way.  
He huffed loudly, along with that protectiveness, came anger and defense. "Get in the car." He ordered - just like John would.

Sam rolled his eyes.  
"Fine, put up your walls," he snapped, getting in the impala and slamming the door.  
Dean gave him a dirty look, but Sam ignored it. "Just don't expect me to drop this." Sam thought for a second. "Actually," he said, turning to face Dean, "I'm not hunting with you until I can be sure you've had help. Not until I'm sure you're stable." He smiled dangerously, but at the same time it was kind. He had a talent for those kinds of smiles.

Dean glared at Sam and fought the urge to punch the little git as he got into the driving seat of the Impala and ignored him. He put on the engine and started driving back to the motel room. He wasn't going to listen to Sam, no way. There was no way Sam was going to get him one of those psychologists or whatever - he didn't need one. He was strong; he had to be strong for his little brother - even if he was a dick sometimes. It wasn't long - in the silent car - before they reached the motel and Dean parked her. Getting out of the car and unlocking the motel door, stepping inside.

Sam followed his brother.  
"You're a stubborn jerk you know that?" Sam told his brother, taking off his jacket, and hanging it on the chair. "I'm only trying to help you." He said. Noticing that Dean was going to the mini bar, Sam hobbled over to snatch the beer out of his brother’s hand. "No alcohol either," he added, ignoring his brothers 'I'm gonna kill you,' face.  
Collecting up all the beers and spirits, he made a point of putting it down the sink. Though, for some reason, Dean didn't stop him, he just stood and glared.

"I'm going to the bar. Find a new case." He ordered, voice low and almost a growl.  
Before Sam could even stop him, he grabbed his keys and stormed out of the motel room, making sure to slam the door shut as he hopped into the Impala and started her up before driving her away.  
He couldn't let Sam believe there was something wrong with him, he just couldn't. He hit the steering wheel in frustration as he drove to the nearest bar, in need of some alcohol to soothe his racing thoughts.

Sam stared after his brother, not happy that he was driving when angry.  
Sam sniffed, sitting on his bed, not even bothering to look at his laptop. He rolled up his jean leg instead, staring at the reasonable mark there.  
It was like a bite, and it had just appeared as he was exorcising the demon.  
He hadn't told Dean, but it was extremely painful. He winced, looking at it. It had a dark circle in the middle, like an angry bruise, with a multitude of small red round dots around it.  
Sam leant over to his laptop then, searching through to see if there had been any other people with bites like his.  
He left his leg out; the cooler air was nice for it.

Dean managed to find a decent bar and he walked into it.  
The air smelled of cigarette smoke and the strong stench of alcohol would be left on Dean's jacket, he knew of it. He took a seat on one of the uncomfortable stools and motioned to the bartender to get him something - he didn't really care what he wanted, just something with alcohol in it. Something to make him feel better and drown out all the negative screaming thoughts in his head that he was pretty sure was going to burst if any more negativeness was poured into it.  
He hadn't said a word. He had been quiet and withdrawn anyway, so it didn't make much difference.

Sam closed his laptop with a snap. None. Nada. Nothing. There were no signs of this type of bite before.  
He swore under his breath as he pressed a light finger on the mark. Yes, it was still very tender.  
Looking at the clock, he realized he had been on his laptop for a long time.  
Deciding he would wait for his drunkard brother to come home, he flicked on the television. Though he swore he would stay awake, his eyelids began to droop, and he was unconscious before he could even cover up his calf.  
His dreams were fitful, sporadic, but he was totally out of it.

Dean did come home - a few hours later, vision going slightly blurry and the sun having set a while ago. He managed to drive back to the motel and not crash - which was a miracle in itself.  
So when he came home, vision blurring out details, he totally missed the bite on Sam, even though to a sober mind, it would be totally view able. He staggered a little to his own bed and shedded his jeans and jacket, getting under the covers and totally not realizing about Sam's condition and the bite or the dreams. It would be something he would regret.

Sam woke up almost screaming.  
It wasn't often he woke up to night terrors, but this time it was bad. The creature he had seen in his mind had first looked like his brother, but as the feeling of the dream darkened, Dean’s face had melted away, morphing itself so it looked like a creature that could very well make the mark on his leg. Though Sam had tried to turn away, he couldn't, and he woke up. He gasped, the bite throbbing, white hot at first.  
Sam grit his teeth, absently pleased that his brother was back. Soon the bite was less painful, Sam dared a glance. The sheets were red. Sam took a couple of breaths. He flicked his gaze over to his brother, but it was safe to say that he would have a headache in the morning.  
Sam went to go to the bathroom, but as soon as he tried to put pressure on his leg, it fell out from under him. The white hot pain was back. Sam landed on his back, cursing and swearing loudly, trying his best to move his leg out from under him.

Dean groaned, he could hear something in the edge of his consciousness, a voice and curses. It would have to be Sam, he was the only one in the motel room.  
Dean dragged up his duvet and wrapped it over his head as he tried to get some more of his drunken sleep. He wouldn't go to sleep willingly nowadays, it was only when he had the calming amber liquid of alcohol in his bloodstream that forced him to return to his nightmarish dreams of unconsciousness.  
"God Sam... Shut up..." He said but when he heard some more grunts he just hit his pillow and sat up, headache throbbing - but that was usual. "Sam- what the fuck are you doin-... Sam?" Dean looked over to his younger brother's bed, not noticing the red patch of blood since the other blanket was covering it from his view.  
Dean couldn't see Sam on the floor so he didn't know where his brother was.

"Dean," Sam choked out, edges of his mind going fuzzy as he tried to talk through the pain. "Get some towels aye?" He gasped, rolling onto his stomach.  
It felt like the pain was traveling up his leg, but Sam forced the thought away. No way was the bite poisoned.  
He heard his brother get up, and Sam tried to pull himself back onto his bed. Dean was dealing with enough. "It's not too bad," he yelped, giving up and sliding onto the floor.

Dean shifted to see Sam struggling, his little brother on the floor with something on his leg. Confusedly, he went to get towels immediately from the bathroom and then came out to kneel in front of Sam quickly, his eyebrows stitched together. He looked Sam up and down and his gaze rested on a swollen, bruised, bleeding bit mark and his eyes widened.  
"What the fuck Sam?" He asked and immediately, his mind was wiped of his drunken stupor and all of his concentration and effort was focused on Sam.  
Gently, Dean laid the towel on Sam's leg and tried to wipe some of the blood away to get a better look at the wound. "What the hell is this?" He asked.

"I think it might be a bite. I dunno," Sam replied, gripping his brother’s shoulder roughly. His older brother was here, taking care of him like always. "Nuthin like it on the webternets," he said slowly, blinking roughly, focusing on the pain, so much pain, in his leg to keep himself from slipping into the dangerous darkness that tugged at the edge of his mind.

"No, no, Sam, focus on me." Dean used his fingers to lightly tap against Sam's cheek, trying to rouse his from falling unconscious.  
Dean took this time to look onto Sam's bed sheets and saw the large oval stain of bright red blood laying there. Dean clenched his teeth because this was his fault. All his fault and he couldn't do anything about it now that he had left it too far to even look after his brother.  
He was a jerk, a great big jerk. Dean got up to get the little vial of holy water and splashed it onto Sam's leg, trying to find out if anything demonic was in this. If not - he was going to take Sam to the hospital immediately, pass it off as a big dog bite.

Sam flinched as the water struck him.  
It didn't affect him, but the bite steamed, and Sam yelled out. It was blindingly painful.  
"Not your fault Dean," he gasped, looking at his brothers eyes, noticing his pained expression.  
His addled mind was thinking. He glanced down at his wound. It looked like it was less swollen already. Something clicked, and everything was slightly clearer. "Get more holy water on that Dean, it's gone down already." He saw his brother hesitate, and seeing his pale sweaty face in the reflection in Dean’s eyes, he didn't blame him. "Do it!" He yelled, feeling like a knife was twisting in his calf muscle.

Dean swallowed thickly and clenched his jaw again, suddenly getting an idea.  
He got up immediately and ran to the bathroom where he turned on the faucet and started to pour water into the tub. "I've got an idea..." Dean wanted to make sure that every single bit of this holy water was going to be effective and he wanted to make a good job out of it.  
He ran to a duffel bag and had to wait an agonizing minute, waiting for the water to flow halfway up the tub. He had to watch Sam fling his head back and grunt from the pain and he wondered how painful it was. "Come on damn it..." Dean murmured and when the water had finished, Dean made a quick job of blessing the water with the rosary beads he held in his hand. "Come on Sam... Up you get." Dean said as he linked an arm under Sam's armpits, trying to raise him. "Don't step with your bad leg." He reminded.

"You're telling me," Sam growled, feeling like his teeth would crack with how hard he was clenching his jaw.  
He put as much pressure as he could on his good leg, though the movement jolted sparks in Sam’s vision.  
He leant heavily on his brother, using him a crutch. Unconsciousness was not even an option, the pain so much it would be impossible, unless of course, passed out from the pain.  
Not giving himself time to remember the pain before, Sam put his leg the bath, screaming out at the pain. He bit his hand, noticing the tang of blood, but not much.  
A sickly yellow was draining from the wound, staining the water. Tears were streaming from Sam’s eyes before he could stop them, and he barely refrained from sobbing out loud. He would never stoop that low, especially now he felt Dean’s gaze on him.

Every whimper, every curse, every yell of pain hurt Dean in a way it had never before. Sure, he had seen Sam in pain, as regretful as that might be, he never had seen him like this and once again, Dean blamed himself even more now than he had earlier because if he had spotted this earlier on, he might of been able to do something about it, the pain didn't have to be as bad.  
All he wanted to do was to stop Sam being in so much pain - get him to a bed and treat him like when he was sick and John was out on a hunt. Dean would bring him soup and whisper small assurance that everything was going to be okay, that dad was coming back soon from a job. He had failed John, Sam and everyone else, Sam had been hurt and Dean had been too far wallowing in his self-hate to notice.

Sam used his free hand, slick with sweat, to grip the edge of the bath. The pain was ebbing, and the bath was so discolored it looked like a warning sign, a bright yellow. With the last of it disappearing, Sam let his head fall back, gasping, and sniffing.  
Surprisingly, he laughed. "You're not using this as an excuse to not get help yourself," Sam chuckled, a slight wild glint in his eyes as he stared at his brother’s forlorn expression. "Especially," he coughed, but regained his composure, "with that going on." He sniffed again, gesturing vaguely at his brother’s face. "Hey, but that was cool, I'm alive."  
He blinked, voice going quiet, as he fell over sideways, not cracking his head on the tiles be aide his brother caught him.

Dean shook his head, how could Sam even think of Dean and his 'problems' when he had just gone through something so terrible like that?  
Dean used his quick wits and reactions to help stop Sam from falling over completely and injuring himself any further. "God- Come on.... Let's get you into bed Sam... I swear-- you can scare the living daylights out of me Sammy... Come on, stay up, I know you can." Dean said as he supported Sam, basically being underneath his huge brother. "Let's go to bed... I'll make you feel all better now." He said.  
He wasn't even going to talk about himself, Sam needed help and Dean was going to help him as much as he could because it was his damn fault, his damn nausea and non-eating tendencies that probably made Sam get bitten by whatever the hell it was that bit him.

Sam limply flopped onto his bed. "Drain that darn bath while you're up Dean?" Sam asked, feeling the sweat drying on his forehead.  
As Dean did that, Sam rolled out of bed, using his remaining strength to crawl to fridge. He heard Dean’s exclamation at him, but Sam felt fine, no pain. He just felt tired.  
He pulled out the pizza in there, chucking it on the table. He made himself go and sit at it, pleased with his resilience.  
"Sit Dean," he yawned, he drooping forward slightly, barely escaping sleep. He snapped it back up, grinning tiredly at his brother’s small unbelieved smile. "Eat some pizza will you?" Sam asked, finally letting his head fall on his arms as Dean sat across from him. "Eat," he murmured, before he was out like a light.

Dean looked at his brother, basically falling asleep like his drunken arse only a few hours ago.  
He looked at the pizza and just shook his head as he grabbed some of it and placed it in the bottom of the bin.  
Making sure that Sam wouldn't be able to see it but making sure that it looked like he had eating some of it.  
He grabbed Sam's pillow and blanket and put the pillow under him and the blanket around him. There was no way that he would be able to carry Sam all the way to his bed.  
He would before John died but not now, he was too weak, too unstable and he took his seat opposite Sam and watched his brother.

-The Next Morning-

Sam woke up with a small snort. Was last night a dream? He looked down at his leg. Nope.  
There was a bright pink mark where it used to be angry and bloody. Sam shook his head. He never wanted experience pain like that ever again. He felt like his mind was already beginning to block it out, so he never would.  
He looked at the pizza box, a few pieces left in it. Sam narrowed his eyes, not truly trusting.  
He cracked and stretched, amazed at how well rested and not in pain he felt. Jumping up, he searched for his brother.  
Dean lay spread-eagled on the bed, a soft snore coming from his mouth.  
He leant really close to his brother’s ear, grinning at himself. "Dean! Get up!" He yelled, dodging out of the way quickly as his brother shot his arm out, like he was prepared to defend his life.  
Sam began laughing, leaning into his knees at Deans murderous expression. Sam grinned.

"Not funny Sam..." Dean growled but was good to see Sam all up and okay now, he still felt bad about what had happened and he had been drunk enough to just calm down and have another little sleep in to which it ended with Sam yelling in his ear, almost making him deaf.  
Dean scratched the back of his neck and stood up - a little too fast he gathered because as soon as he was on his feet, he came crashing back down to the floor from the sudden vertigo that washed through him. It wasn't from the hangover... he knew that and he swallowed, this was impacting on him more than he thought.  
"Go 'way Sam. M'fine." He said as he got up to his feet, steadying himself before going into the bathroom and closing the door, going to use the toilet.

Sam frowned. "You're an idiot!" He called out, putting the pillow and blanket on the right bed.  
As soon as Dean was finished, Sam slung his jacket on. "Get some pants on," he ordered casually, "we're going out for breakfast." He waited patiently for his older brother, not too happy at how thin his face was, or how hollow his eyes were. "C'mon, hurry uuuuuuup," he whined good naturedly, tapping his foot.

Dean huffed but agreed. He went to put on some pants, different ones because the other ones had small blood stains on the hem and knee and Dean couldn't risk anyone seeing them.  
"All right... All right..." He said. "But I'm still full from that pizza, it was really filling. I'm just good with coffee." He said, voice platonic and emotionless as it had been for weeks, wasn't much of a change really.  
He ran a hand down his face and grabbed at his keys and wallet again, putting on some boots and shrugging on his jacket before going to the car.

Sam doubted his brother’s words, but he didn't say anything.  
They went to a casual diner, Sam clambering out of the impala and going straight in. He ordered Deans coffee, and more food than he knew he could eat.  
They sat down at a secluded booth, sitting silently, and Sam ate his food when it came in silence too. When he was full, he pushed the rest of it over to Dean’s side.  
"I can't eat anymore," he said somewhat flatly, looking into Deans green eyes with a steely determination. "You'll have to eat the rest, it seems." His tone was casual, but it held a strong undertone. 'You're eating whether you want to or not,' it said, and it was non-negotiable.

Dean eyed Sam curiously and then the food but he pushed it away with some fingers and leaned forward, staring at Sam.  
"And why are you so picky on me eating?" He asked. He wondered if Sam was up to something. "Because the last time I checked, I can take care of myself too y'know?" He added, he wondered if this had something to do with yesterday.  
It probably did, but Dean didn't want to mention that, he was probably going to get defensive once again and he didn't want to make a scene in the diner.

Sam watched his brother. He needed to word this carefully. Dean will put up the barbed wire quickly enough, if Sam tripped over the wire.  
"I'm not picky," he said, keeping Deans gaze calmly. "It would be a shame to waste all this food." He pushed it back over to Dean, feeling slightly childish.  
"Is there a reason why you're not eating?" He asked, breaking the intense stare down and looking over the diner. "Or the fact you haven't noticed the pretty blonde waitress giving you the googly eyes?" He turned back to look at Dean. 'Don't lie to me', his silent words pleaded. 'Don’t you even dare'...

Dean frowned and looked at the girl who was - in fact - giving him the googly eyes and looked like she was desperate for attention.  
Now normally, Dean would have wanted a piece of that, considering that she looked that desperate too, that would have given him a nice time but Dean only shook his head.  
"We should be concentrating on hunts Sam... Not girls wanting sex." He answered. It didn't even shock him, what he said, with the fact that it sounded so unDean-like. "And I told you. I'm not even hungry, that pizza filled me up, you going deaf or something?" He shrugged and eyed Sam with the 'Watch me.' type of glance, almost as if it was a challenge.

Sam made a face. "I'm too weak to go hunting," he replied flatly, stung. His words were unconvincing, but he was just copying his brother.  
Except, he had tried to help himself. Dean was doing nothing for himself. A small flame of anger and disappointment licked at his chest. "Except, I'm not acting like you..." He said, not even caring that Dean wasn't in his thoughts. "Do you want me to? Do you want to watch me waste away, become a shell, and stop caring about learning?" He didn't stop when Dean flinched. "Because I'm sure you would do something, I'm sure you wouldn't let me waste away." His voice rose slightly. "So why should I let you?!"

Dean looked around at the diner when Sam had raised his voice just slightly and then he looked back to Sam.  
This reverse psychology thing... It did make him realize a thing or two. "Sam." His voice was quieter, hushed, more dangerous. "Don't make this a big deal because I'm sure of whatever you are fussing about over me doesn't even exist. Yeah, I made a mistake yesterday but that doesn't mean anything. I'm not wasting away here...- I'm still Dean Winchester and you're still my little brother and of course I would never let you waste away." Dean's eyes seemed to have a flicker of anger settle in them. "Now let's not make a scene." He advised.

Sam grinned, but it was not a kind grin.  
"I saw you fall over this morning," he started, knowing that what he was going to say next was going to sting his brother, but it might make him realize, "and I got bitten because you are too fucking weak to even admit you have a problem. I almost died, Dean, and that could have been prevented." Dean gaped at Sam, not knowing where this sudden cruelty had come from.  
Before Dean could even start, Sam cut over him. "Eat the fucking pancakes Dean," he ordered, not liking that he sounded exactly like their father.

Dean glared at Sam, his words punching hole after hole in his heart and he ground his teeth together, hard.  
He looked at Sam with an expression of pure hatred, obviously though, he didn't hate Sam, he couldn't ever do that but after what Sam did to him? There was no way Dean could ever get that out of his head. He couldn't stop feeling worthless and hated. His brother had to hate him now, his brother hated him for almost letting him die.  
It was all Dean's fault, all his stupid fucking fault. "I'm not weak." He spat out, words dipped in poison. "Don't you use that against me Sam. Don't you ever say that to me. You can not order me around like that, I won't allow it. You can't twist my actions. I know I fucked up but I. Am. Fine." Dean growled, he struggled to keep his voice level and not shout it.

Sam took a deep breath in through his nose. He kept his tone level. "If you're fine, you'll eat the pancakes." His eyes glinted mischievously.  
A different tactic again, seeing as each one he used were unsuccessful. "Eat the pancakes to show me that you're fine. You don't, I'll take that as a no, and I'll never let up," he paused, for effect, "you eat them, I'll leave it. For a period." He added the last bit, knowing that this wouldn't be the final time they argued about Deans well being.  
Sam could feel the waves of anger coming off his brother, and it was stronger than he expected, but he calmly took the brunt of the feeling, knowing it would be better for Dean in the long run.

Dean eyed Sam again, thinking of his next plan of action but he knew Sam had cornered him. "I'm fine." He said and moodily took the plate, gripping a fork in his hands and staring down at it.  
He glanced back up at Sam before taking a bite of the pancakes. He expected it to be better tasting since he hadn't had pancakes in such a long time but they tasted bland and boring and Dean wished he hadn't eaten them but he was being forced to.  
He ate 3/4 of Sam's leftover pancakes before he pushed the plate away, his stomach must have shrunk from all the food he hadn't eaten and now he felt full. "I'm fine." He repeated. "Even more full because pancakes and pizza isn't a good mix." Dean partially lied.

Sam nodded. "I don't think they would," he said, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. He thought for a second. "Wanna make a deal Dean?" He asked, a plan forming in his mind.  
He noticed Dean unenthusiasm while eating the pancakes. He actually looked ill.

Dean sat back and crossed his arms as he looked around him again.  
The blonde waitress was still trying to catch his eye and she came up, clearly puffing out her chest to make her breasts look bigger and she bent over to get the plate from them but Dean didn't even spare her a glance, he didn't have any time for this and he huffed loudly.  
It was only when she was gone that Dean raised an eyebrow. "What is it?" He asked.

Sam smiled. "Well, I'll agree to keep hunting with you." He started off, and Deans eye lit up slightly, but Sam held up a finger, "if, and there are some conditions."  
Dean visibly deflated. "One: you eat with me. I don't care if you don't eat much, you eat when I do." He didn't let his brother interrupt. "Two: no going off to pubs without me. No going over the limit without me there, and don't even think about drinking more than two without me there." Dean waited, glaring. "Three: stare at an ass every once and a while. You're beginning to worry me with your celibacy. And finally," he paused, swallowing a lump in his throat, "You promise you don't leave me. Not mentally, not physically, not anything. You talk to me. Those are my conditions." He said, concluding.  
He waited in silence as Dean mulled it over.

"That's a lot Sam. Like I said, I'm fine. I feel fine, I am fine. I don't see what all this fuss is about. Sure, I like to have a drink every once in a while and sometimes it might be a bit too much but it gets me to sleep Sam. Otherwise I can't sleep." That was one of his big confessions.  
He remembered all the nights he was hearing Sam softly snoring as he was laying away on his bed, trying to get everything out of his head. He normally went onto the laptop for the night and Sam would wake up to Dean on the computer and Dean would just say that he was looking up something for the hunt or case they were on - which was totally true.  
"And I don't need sex to live Sam. Saving lives is more important now, not having a night of a meaningless one night stand." Dean sighed.

"Right okay," Sam nodded earnestly. "Scratch rule three then."  
He frowned. "And you can have three drinks before bed, but I have to be there, and you'll let me get you a prescription sleeping drug, because they're not as harmful as alcohol." He stopped. He took a breath, not meeting his brother’s eyes. "And you. Don't. Leave. Me." Dean was about to speak up, but again Sam cut over him. "And the eating one is still there too."  
He tried to smile at Dean, but he was so worried. His older brother, his rock, was breaking. And this was not okay. "Sound fair?" Sam asked.

Dean looked down; he couldn't promise Sam anything with the eating one. But at the same time he couldn't tell him how much weight he had lost, the ribs that he could count.  
Why did he always sleep with a shirt on and get changed in the bathrooms? He knew Sam hadn't caught on that one yet but he just couldn't get himself to eat, he didn't think there was much of a use to eating because he wasn't dead yet was he?  
"Come on. Let's go back to the motel." he said as he grabbed his keys. "I can't agree to anything yet." He said, he needed time; he couldn't open up to Sam. Maybe he could show Sam instead of telling? He didn't know.

Sam frowned, but nodded. "Alright Dean." He said slowly.  
He thanked the people at the counter, shrugging at the blonde, as he followed his brother to the car. He slid in the car, and as soon they were back the motel, Sam opened the door, closing it behind Dean.  
Sam crossed the room, sitting heavily on his bed. Last night seemed a long time ago. He sat in silence, knowing that Dean would speak in his own time.

Dean went over to the alcohol cabinet but groaned when he realized that Sam had emptied the whole thing out the night before and he shook his head.  
"Can't fucking eat Sam. There's no way I can go for that rule. There's just no way that I can find a purpose for eating anymore." Dean realized that what he was saying sounded slightly suicidal but he didn't care. "I just don't want to eat anymore. Everything tastes bland and nasty and I hate it and the weight has just-- dropped off me I suppose." he said the last part quietly as he rubbed the nape of his neck. "I don't want to eat. You can't make me." He sounded defeated and lost and he thought he was just going to take his t-shirt off right then and there just to prove everything.

Sam gaped at his brother. He hasn't even noticed. He felt choked up and defenseless.  
"Dean," he choked out, "I'm sorry," Sam got up before he knew what he was doing.  
He grabbed his older brother, pulling him into a rough hug, before deciding that he was too fragile, and he loosened off. "Dean, I didn't know." He fumbled for words, not even thinking about letting him go. "I'll force feed you the hottest spice in the world. I'll put it on every food ever, and then nothing will be bland." He pulled back, staring at his brother.  
Dean looked broken, the complete opposite at what he was in the diner,

"You don't understand...- I don't want to eat... Eating isn't important anymore... Going on these hunts, saving these people, that's more important. I'm not." Dean said and he pulled away, looking to the ground, he was scared Sam was going to feel his thin body and decided that Sam shouldn't see it, it would freak him out too much.  
Whatever happened to being there for his little brother? Now his little brother was concerned for Dean and he was just screwing this up, he never meant for this to happen. "Sam-- Dad died for me. I wish he didn't." Dean admitted.

Sam shook his head. "Never say that, you're so important." He felt somewhat sappy, but he needed Dean to understand something.  
He stared at Dean, forcing him to look at him in the eye. "I don't care about the past right now. I need you to listen to me, alright, are you listening?"

Dean shook his head, he didn't want to, whatever was going to come out of Sam's mouth -- it couldn't be true, it shouldn't be.  
"Why should I listen Sam? Why bother? Just leave me in the streets because I let you get hurt and you said it yourself. I am too weak for you. I got you hurt and that was all my stupid fucking fault. Why don't you just leave me to waste? Why am I even important to you? I failed you. I failed Dad. I've failed everyone I have met."

Sam sighed. "Stop talking before I punch you for being stupid," the words were accompanied with a small smile, and Sam decided to plow ahead.  
"Brothers. That's what we are. We don't leave each other, we kick each other sometimes, but we feel like dicks, and we help each other up. I said cruel stuff before, trying to get you to listen, I didn't mean it." He shook Dean’s shoulders lightly.  
"You stop eating, you die. You die, and I'm alone, and that would not be good. Because if you die I'm fighting my way into hell to get you. So I don't care if you force feed yourself ok? You're important, and if you value me, you will eat." He paused, thinking. "I know it seems impossible, but if we're brothers, you'll do it. For me Dean, you're going to live. You're going to keep killing nasty sons-of-bitches, and we’ll do it together." Sam nodded at himself. "Do you understand?"

Dean swallowed and clenched his jaw, he repeatedly had to keep looking down at the floor, avoiding Sam's petulant looks at him because he hated this type of attention.  
He nodded after a while though, he valued Sam. He valued him more than his own life because he was right - they were brothers, there to pick them up every time they fall down or they buy the medicine every time they get sick.  
"Yeah Sammy..." He said. He suddenly felt self conscious of himself and he had to shrug off Sam's large hands because he felt so small and weak and defeated. Defeated by something so mysterious, like a cloak covered over his mind.  
"But last night--" He started.

"Last night was so mental," Sam whispered, having almost completely forgotten about the fading mark on his leg.  
"And dude, you were brilliant with the bath. And I shoulda called you, and a lot of things should have been done," he clenched his hands, "but that's the past, and what happens there should stay there. Now, we worry about the present," he slapped his older brother on the shoulder, "and we think about the future." Sam shuffled his feet; he had never been very good at motivational speeches, or feeling expressing in any way. "Okay? Anything you've ever done to piss me off, or hurt me, I forgive you." He smiled genuinely at Dean.

Dean nodded, replicating some sort of smirk back to Sam.  
"Okay Sammy... it's a start." He said. "Just promise me one thing -- you ever get hurt again... I don't care how big or small or anything, you tell me so I can fix you up. Because hell Sam-- I'm mad at myself for last night but I'm also mad at you for not telling me. Like you said, brothers look out for one another, it's not just a one person perspective, look at it from my view too." Dean said. "But again, like you said, it's in the past and there's nothing we can do to change that. Just be thankful that you didn't die man... Anyway-" Dean scratched his arm. "Can we go searching for some hunts now?" He asked.

Sam looked at Dean flatly. It lasted two seconds, but he broke out into a grin. "I actually though the pub was a good idea..." He laughed, at Dean’s expression. "A few drinks, then we look for a case? What do you think?"

"Dude, you really think a pub was a good idea right now?" Dean shrugged and sighed. "If you really want to I suppose...” He said. Truth was, he was itching to get some alcohol into his system again and he just needed to get a hold of some beer or even whiskey if they had it. He exited the motel room with Sam and started the car. Yeah, the pub was a brilliant idea.


End file.
